


and jump out quickly

by interim



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen, this is a serious and a terrible fic at the same time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 16:42:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7322920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interim/pseuds/interim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We're not calling it 'The Bacheliza.'"<br/>"Why not?"<br/>"A lot of reasons. Number one, 'The Bachelorette' confuses people enough. Number two, puns alienate the viewer. Number three, you have a degree in marketing."</p><p>Eliza is the new Bachelorette. It goes as well as you'd expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. hundreds of eyes

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know what the fuck i'm doing! this is seriously a bachelorette au! blame emily and also monday nights!  
> please talk to me @ interimsup on tumblr. bye.  
> also, i know this is terrible. in an ideal world, chapter two will be better. but i just wanted to get this fic out into the void.

_ Posted: 12 hours ago _

_ Hits: 19 _

_ Dedicated readers! _

_ I have some news that is going to be monumentally devastating for you: there are not going to be any posts from AlexanderHammyTime for the next eight weeks. Eight weeks. Fifty-six days. One thousand, three hundred, forty-four hours. For those of you that have been with me from the beginning and know that I’ve rarely gone so much as a full day without posting, you’re obviously seeking an explanation. I will be in California filming a little show called  _ The Bachelorette.  _ Yup, that one. I know that last September, I posted three blog posts on the perceived problems of the show. Now I can reveal that was the reaction to a grave mistake in which I was not cast and put on the waitlist. That problem has been corrected. As I am a full-fledged potential suitor now, I recognize that this incredible show is neither “the end of all media” nor “the equivalent to witnessing a consummation in the twenty-first century.” It is a wonderful new opportunity.  _

_ They will, however, be restricting our access to the internet for the full eight weeks, regardless of when (or if) we get eliminated. Something about spoiling the winner. Don’t fret! I will not forget you. You can see me on May 12th at 8/9c sporting an “ALEXANDERHAMMYTIME.COM” t-shirt as I meet my future wife.  _

_ I’ll prewrite some pieces on what I’m sure to be is a disastrous two months in D.C. during my absence. See you all soon.  _

 

  * __A. Ham__



 

\-----

“Eliza, can I just remind you that you don’t have to do this?” 

Angelica rests her hands on her younger sister’s shoulders as she sits before a lighted mirror with a pink-haired woman carefully applying her makeup. Eliza flicks her eyes up to meet Angelica’s in the mirror, giving her a look.  _ You know that’s not true _ . 

“I’ve reminded Dad at least ten times that you said for years that you didn’t want to be a part of the politics,” Angelica continues, even as the production intern behinds her gives the room a twenty minute warning. 

“Ange,” Eliza sighs, fluttering her eyes closed as the makeup artist starts on her eyeliner. “Last election, Peggy had all those public outings with Stevie, even though they both hate press. Before that, you left the firm to start as CEO. Neither of you wanted to do that it’s just… my turn. ‘Shy middle daughter of senator up for re-election steps out of her sheltered life to meet her Prince Charming.’” 

It is her gimmick, after all. All the pre-interviews and promos for this season have been polished pictures of Eliza standing dutifully at White House events and press events in Albany, a booming voice talking about her stepping out of the world of politics (which she was never in to begin with) and into “the world of love.” For the first time in years, the last name of the bachelorette is featured on  _ everything _ . This Season: Eliza Schuyler tries to find love on the West Coast! Political Princess Schuyler Trades the State Dinners for Beach Parties! Part of the contract that her father’s lawyers drew up, as it is the point of all this. Put her father’s name back out there for all the idiots sucking up meaningless TV who would otherwise forget to vote in the midterms. And though Eliza would never admit it, she hopes she meets someone here. She’s garbage at dating, aside from the casual bar hookup or the guy in her developmental psychology class who she had so many study sessions with they just ended up calling their relationship “dating.” It would be nice to see someone new, out of her realm, to make her feel something. 

“Just any time you wanna be done,” Angelica tells her. “You can leave.”

“Actually she can’t.” A woman adorned with a headset and a parka walks into the dressing room just in time to glare at Angelica. “You do understand that we have a contract, right? That you signed?” 

Angelica presses her lips into a thin line, a look Eliza is familiar with, used when she’s about to pounce on someone for insinuating that they know more than her. 

“Yes, I know, she’s just being a big sister,” Eliza steps in. She squeezes Angelica’s hand to keep her from getting into a debate with this girl, who doesn’t look older than 22. 

The woman holds her stare for another second before dropping it and approaching Eliza. “I’m Maria. I’m a producer here, and I’ll be taking care of you.” 

She looks over Eliza’s outfit carefully, nothing indicating a pleasant remark on her face. “You need to be in something hotter. Let’s face it:  _ Bachelorette  _ sucks. No one wants to see one girl in a pantsuit and twenty-five guys when they just had twenty-five girls in bikinis and one schmuck.” 

Eliza looks down on her outfit, frowning slightly at what she thought had been hot. Angelica mouths the words “Anytime” to her, and Eliza swats at her arm. Maria looks back at them with warning in her eyes, before handing her a plunging white sparkling dress. 

“I don’t have the boobs for this,” Eliza blurts out. 

Maria rubs her arm soothingly. “Chicken cutlets. Come on, sun sets in fifteen minutes. Six hours of hard night. You get to meet twenty-five hot guys!” She gives Eliza a fake, over exaggerated smile, and Eliza concedes, going behind a screen and changing. She forgoes the chicken cutlets, but accepts the pair of purple heels Maria hands her. One more hair touch-up and she’s being pushed out the door. 

\-----

“Herc, do you have car number three?” Theodosia’s voice crackles over the radio. 

Herc sits up to look out the window of the limo, surrounded by five identically dressed men in suits, and sees the fairy lights of the house from the front. 

“Yup, should be a couple minutes out. We’re within sights of the house,” he tells her. The men look around, at each other, out the window, at Herc. He sighs. They’re no different from the sorority girls piled into this car from last season. 

Well. With one exception. All of Hercules’ good fortune, he has the waitlisted dude in his car. Some political blogger they considered for a moment of comic relief. The man himself said he just wanted a minute or two of promotion. Originally, there was supposed to be a Doctors Without Borders guy, the only solid husband candidate besides the French aristocrat and the divorce lawyer, but he ended up in a fully body cast after some skiing accident. And the one with the goatee and t-shirt ended up as one of Herc’s prospects. 

“Are we meeting her soon?” 

Herc looked up. Oh, the British one. He forgot about him, charming accent with American sensibilities and all. He could be husband material. Maybe get a little conflict with the Frenchman. Political humor for the election season!

“Just a few minutes,” Herc affirms. “Remember: be relaxed when you meet her, make it seem natural, but also show off your personality as much as possible.” 

He locks eyes with Waitlist. All that ratings boosting, Buzzfeed fodder, dumbass personality tucked in that green (does that say  _ AlexanderHammyTime.Com _ ?) t-shirt. He’s already anticipating the headlines of everyone’s review tomorrow:  _ Does Plugging Your Blog on National TV Get You a Rose? _ The answer is no, but hopefully headlines are worth bonuses from Theo. 

The car comes to a stop and Herc is broken from his train of thought, clutching his radio. 

“Yo, Maria, car three is here.”

“Go for Maria. Me and our girl are ready for you.”

“T-minus thirty seconds for my first guy.”

Herc puts down his radio and motions for all the guys to move over out of line of sight of the camera. He waves the first guy, some bartender from Kansas or somewhere else equally plainly American towards the door. The remaining men in the car all lean over slightly (as much as they can without Herc smacking them back) to catch a glimpse of the Bachelorette for this season. 

Herc forgets sometimes how beautiful she is, so wrapped up in trying to find a suitor for her that he doesn’t focus on her. The long, silky hair, black eyes, and  _ that dress _ . She’s certainly a sight for all these sore, travel weary eyes. Herc looks over to see Waitlist’s mouth watering. Oh, he’ll be making a fool of himself the minute he has to interact with her. 

The Brit, John André, as he introduces himself, does well enough. Not as memorable as he would've wanted, but Eliza is certainly enticed by that accent and the matching boyish good looks, and Herc is sure they can tap into some daddy issues with a military man. The next three in his car go without much interest from Eliza. They’ll be gone, too, Herc realizes with a sigh and a thump on the back of his head. Maybe the one with the tattoo will stay a week or two, at least. 

He looks at the last guy in his car. Fucking Waitlist with his green shirt and too long hair. 

“Alright, dude,” Herc says, already feeling defeated. “You’re up. Go wow her.”

Waitlist bounds out of the car, shit-eating grin on his face, and Herc leans over in anticipation of Eliza laughing right in his face.

Before she can say anything to him, Waitlist grabs her hand and presses a kiss to her hand. Herc grimaces, and he can practically hear the control room laughing, but Eliza blushes, a small smile at her lips. Of course. All the Bachelorettes want the fantasy romance. 

“I’m Alex. Hamilton. Have you met other Alex’s tonight? I know there’s at least five Johns, I met two of them on the plane and─”

“Eliza Schuyler,” she cuts him off, probably due to Maria’s excessive arm waving off camera. “It’s a pleasure to─ what is ‘AlexanderHammyTime.com’?”

“I’m glad you asked!” Herc drags his hand over his face, a deep sense of secondhand embarrassment, the worse he’s ever gotten from working here. “I’m a blogger. You would love my blog, daughter of a senator and all. You are that Schuyler, right?”

Eliza’s face screws up for a second, then corrects itself back into that sweet, demure, winning smile everyone’s competing for. She only laughs and kisses his cheek quickly, just as she has for all the other contestants. Herc would feel worse about her discomfort if he wasn’t so certain that he was getting a cash bonus for this delightful trainwreck. 

Once Theo calls for a cut over the radio and the bell rings, Herc ducks out of the limo, giving a nod to Maria as she checks up on Eliza. Poor girl has to meet ten more of these guys tonight, all for the chance that one or two of them will be potential husband material. Herc pushes the door open to the control room, happy to see Theodosia in her patented power stance in front of her wall of monitors. One of the interns vacates a chair for him. 

“How are my dudes?” he asks, kicking his feet up. 

“André’s on the hubby board. And your blogger just might be enough of a douchebag to pass as a villain,” Theodosia answers without looking back at him. “AlexanderHammyTime? It’s almost good enough to make me forget Doctors Without Borders.”

“Did you see John is a major? I’m thinking military daddy issues for a one-on-one.”

“Herc, we’re doing last names. ‘Hammy Time’ was right, there are five Johns. It’s a fucking brothel in here,” she gestures back towards the white board with all the potential suitors on it, all the “John” on the board crossed out and last names written in. “But, yes. Major André and General Schuyler. We can do a lot.” 

“By ‘a lot’ do you mean ‘cash bonus?’”

“Ham’s the one you want if you’re looking bonuses,” Theo says, pointing to the screen to Alex looking as though he’s sizing up someone six inches taller than him for a fight. 

Herc sighs, then stands back up and heads for the door. “Guess I better keep him in the competition.”

\-----

“Okay, Eliza, why don’t you tell me a little about the men you met tonight?”

Eliza tries to look at Maria - not at the camera two feet in front of her face, the bright lights over her head, the crowd of people in parkas around her while she is barely dressed - who sits in front of her with elbows on her knees, looking too interested to be interested at all. 

“I met twenty-five for thirty seconds a piece, how do I remember all of them?” she asks. She knows she’s supposed to be playing into the sweet bimbo trope of the usual girls in this role, but sometimes she can’t help herself.

“Are there any that stood out to you?” Maria adds, annoyance seeping into her voice. All night, Maria has been falling back and forth between trying to be Eliza’s new best friend and living the reality of an overworked producer on a show she hates. It’s as amusing as it is infuriating. 

“I remember the guy with the blog.” If only because he  _ had a fucking blog _ and tried to promote it on national television. “Alexander?”

Maria sighs, pulling her hair into a ponytail in what seems to be a nervous tick, and another producer behind her covers his laugh. She stands up and tells the cameramen to shut down the confessional, then reaches out to Eliza. 

“We need to get you into this cocktail party so you can actually meet them.” Maria covers Eliza with a coat for the short walk and directs her into the house. “Mix and mingle, yeah? There’s some producers in there as waiters if you need anything.”

Eliza tries to fight feelings of panic as she is immediately overwhelmed when she steps into the room. All the men that she met tonight, staring at her. For the first time in her life, she is the absolute center of attention. She wants to recoil, but someone is dragging her over to the bar already.

“Eliza, do you wanna take a minute to talk?” The man, who she knows is a suitor, but whose name she does  _ not _ know. 

“I’d love to,” she says, finding her sweetest smile and taking a glass of wine and his hand as they go outside. 

“So tell me about yourself,” he suggests, sitting far too close to her for her not to know his name. But, she supposes, that’s the whole point of the twelve week whirlwind romance. 

“Um. The basics? I grew up in New York, two sisters. Vassar, and now I’m starting my first teaching job after all this is over.” God, she feels like she’s on those terrible OKCupid dates she went on in college again. “Where are you from?”

“New Jersey,” he says, and she gives him a nod even though she couldn’t care less. “So I went to Princeton, of course, but Columbia for law school.”

“Oh, my older sister went to Columbia─”

To the relief of Eliza, and likely all of the producers agonizing over this exceedingly dull conversation, Alexander (she tells herself that it counts to know his name even if it’s on his t-shirt) comes to interrupt them. 

“Aaron Burr, sir!” 

Aaron, as she is reminded, presses his lips together to try to conceal his reaction to Alexander’s rhyme. Eliza is simply glad she knows his name now, and that she can potentially escape this conversation if Alexander is here to steal her attention. 

Aaron is not: “Alexander, we’re in the middle of a conversation here.”

“Yes, but I’d like to  _ start _ a conversation with her.” 

Aaron sighs, but relents, and Alexander slides into his former place next to Eliza. Is this what it’s going to be like for the rest of her night? Men who she doesn’t know playing musical chairs for the prize of talking to her for a minute or two?

“Do we need to go through all the small talk again?” she asks. Alexander smiles, and she feels uneasy for a moment. 

“I don’t really want to talk.”

Eliza can’t even think of a response before his lips crash against hers. Her sound of surprise is muffled, then forgotten as Alexander tightens his hand on her thigh. She leans into it, her hand finding his chest - facing completely forward, URL and all just in place for the cameras.

Next thing she knows, Maria is pulling her off of him, moving quickly and as far away as possible. Eliza’s mind needs a few seconds to catch up, now only thinking about his lips and where else they could go. 

“Eliza, snap out of it,” Maria demands. Exasperated producer, full force. “It’s the first episode, you can’t make out with the first guy you see!”

Eliza would correct her, remind her it was the second guy she saw, but she figures it wouldn’t end well for her. 

“Fine. Who am I allowed to make out with?”

Maria narrows her eyes for a minute, trying to figure out if Eliza is serious or only trying to agitate her further. She takes her by the arm and shows her a window of all the suitors, talking amongst themselves and vaguely looking for Eliza.

“That one with the hair. Lafayette. And the British one, André,” she tells her. “Everyone else? Small talk.”

Eliza stares back at Maria for another moment, then looks into the room and takes a deep breath. At least by the end of the night, everyone in that fucking room will know she has two sisters and went to Vassar. Any other information they glean is gravy.

\----

Theodosia knows, intellectually, that she should not be this tense about the first episode of the season. Whatever happens, they can fix or change what they need to down the road. They’ll find a narrative. Still. With her board of suitors (Aaron, André, Lafayette marked for husband) beside her monitors of Eliza getting her makeup fixed before the rose ceremony, she’s looking at a whole collection of things that could go wrong. Eliza could send home all Theo’s husband picks. 

She knows Eliza and Aaron didn’t hit it off - but maybe it was only due to Alex’s interruption - but she wants more than anything to keep him around. She recruited him, and she knows he’s sweet, intelligent, charming (when he wants to be). Viewers will fall in love with him. Eliza could fall in love with him. Theo needs to keep him around.

And she acts on impulse. “Maria, it’s Theo.”

“Go for Maria.”

“I need you to get Eliza to keep Aaron.”

“What, the dude from New Jersey?”

Theodosia sighs. “Yes, him, but also a potential husband.”

“Theo, I don’t even think she likes him.”

“Just get it done, Maria.”

Maria doesn’t respond, but Theo watches on the monitors as she whispers something to Eliza, whose face contorts in confusion. When she finally starts to nod in agreement, Theo lets out a long exhale, sitting back down and telling Herc to get the host into place and start the rose ceremony. 

Luckily for Theodosia, Eliza is not a complete idiot and knows exactly which men to pick. All three of her potential husbands are safe in the first five picks. Two more Johns. The teacher. Body builders, for which advertisers seeking women 18-24 are grateful for, but Theo will only dub Chads 1, 2, and 3. Eye candy won’t make it past week five anyway. The ambassador. Morris. She considers that there are too many statesmen on a season where they both are and aren’t trying to emphasize that her father is a senator. 

One last rose twists in Eliza’s fingers. Theodosia has her eye on the bartender, even if he has no personality, he’s a better, and more attractive, choice than the other bores or, God forbid, the blogger. 

“Alexander, will you accept this rose?”

All of the other men and the crew on set bite their tongues and try to hold their faces steady as Alex accepts the rose and his kiss on the cheek from Eliza before standing with a smug smile next to his competitors. As soon as the bell rings and the cameras stop rolling, the quiet, tense atmosphere of the men going home is broken up by Theodosia’s voice over the radios. 

“Who the fuck let him get a rose?”


	2. ashamed and amused

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Maybe Eliza will just forget about him."  
> "I don't know if you forget a guy like that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bitch i'm back. by popular demand.   
> seriously, i'm so sorry it took me forever to update. i'm technically under a month, i'll try to be quicker next time. but thank you so much for your interest in this story! i thought this was gonna be a stupid thing like two people read, but omg!   
> notes for the people that watch the bachelor or unreal: this is 1000 percent inspired by ben's soccer challenge / darius' football challenge. also i don't know if i should cast someone from hamilton as a chris harrison type.   
> enjoy the fun, non-proofread (sorry!!) chapter.   
> yell at me: interimsup.tumblr.com

Alex is starting to question if this competition / self-promotion / entrepreneurial fuck fest is worth it if he has to pack and unpack his clothes every week before and after the rose ceremony. Fuck it, maybe it’s just the unpacking the clothes that’s not worth it. Alex stops the process and his thoughts midway, shoving a final shirt into a drawer before kicking his suitcase against the wall, half full. 

“Packing to go home already?” Lafayette, his (hot! French! rich, judging by the quality of his luggage!) roommate asks. 

It’s not funny. Everyone heard the EP try to discount his rose at the ceremony. He’s not sure if it’s a personal affront or a genuine mistake. Alex rolls his eyes, picking up a pair of jeans and throwing them at Lafayette in retaliation. Laf dodges. “Shut up, dude.”

“What is your problem? You got a rose.”

“Laurens didn’t.”

“So?”

“He was one of the only hot, bi guys here.”

“Do I not understand this competition, or is the point of this not to marry Eliza?”

“It is, but that doesn’t mean I’m, like, celibate while she’s dating ten other guys.”

Lafayette stares at him, then laughs. 

“What?” Alex demands. 

“Nothing,” he says, still a smile on his face. “You came here to win a wife, but I don’t think you’ll do it by wearing a t-shirt with your blog on it and you’re trying to have sex with all the guys here.”

“Not all the guys,” Alex defends. “Why, you interested?”

Laf laughs again. “I do not think that my fiancée would be happy.”

“Wow. You’re that confident you’re gonna marry her?”

“Of course, we have been engaged for ten years.”

Alex stops, sitting up on his bed. “What?”

“What?”

“You’ve been engaged to Eliza for ten years? What’s the point of this competition?”

“Eliza? No! Adrienne.”

“Who the fuck is Adrienne?

“My fiancée!”

“You’re gonna have to explain.”

So he does. It’s a whole French aristocracy ordeal that Lafayette doesn’t expect him to - and Alex doesn’t - understand. Betrothed in a strategic marriage as babies, officially since they were sixteen, but recently, the bride-to-be got cold feet and sent Lafayette off to figure out if he really loved her (he did, and if you saw her, he told Alex, you would too). He saw an ad for  _ Bachelorette _ auditions, asking if he was “looking for love” and the rest is history. Or, ninety minute segments of heavily edited footage. 

“Damn,” Alex says finally, taking it all in. “So, in short, you don’t wanna fuck me?”

Lafayette laughs. “If you want to win this, shouldn’t you be trying to sleep with Eliza?”

Alex stares up at the ceiling. He did kiss her, after all, on that first night. Granted, it was to promote his blog, but it was still nice. Soft lips and warm hands. He wishes he had been paying more attention when it happened. “Probably.”

“Then stop trying to sleep with me or John or anyone else, and focus on her.”

Yeah. Focus on her. Alex looks at the competition with slightly renewed purpose. Promote the blog. Sleep with Eliza. Marry Eliza?

\- - - - -

Theodosia feels like banging her head against the wall. Remember when she thought Alex wouldn’t be a problem? That they could fix their storyline down the road in the reasons?

She didn’t consider that she would have to come up with something for this snoozefest of a season premiere without using his kiss with Eliza. 

Some dipshit intern thought it would be helpful to her creative process to let the scene of Alex faceplanting against Eliza’s lips while his chest acted as a billboard play over and over on four different monitors. Theo covers her eyes with her hands, but she can still hear the sound of Eliza’s surprised gasp, both when he kisses her and when Maria grabs her and drags her off. Over and over and over and over. 

There’s a much needed interruption when the door opens, and she looks up to see Maria, who pauses to stare at the monitors with her mouth half open and stuffed with a muffin. 

“Do you have any idea what to do with this?” Theo asks, looking back at the screens. “It was the sexiest thing to happen all night. But it was with Hammy Time.”

Maria shrugs, sitting down next to Theo and finishing her muffin. “Two options: make him a potential husband or make him a villain.”

“He’s not attractive or douchey enough to be a villain,” Theodosia argues. “And no way in hell will he be a husband.” 

“Okay, not  _ husband _ husband, but like. Top four?”

“Yeah, we’re gonna see him next to Andre, Lafayette, and Aaron,” Theo says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Maria laughs. “Oh my god, Theo, Aaron is not top four.” 

“Why not?”

“You’re literally the only one who likes him.”

“Oh, come on.”

“It’s true! What do you think is going to happen, Theo? He’s going to fall in love with you because you helped him almost marry another woman?”

“What? I didn’t say─”

“You do this all the time. Remember Derek, two seasons ago? Lisa hated him, but you had her keep him to the end because you wanted him. And what happened at the end of the season?” 

“We slept together one time and then he moved back to Idaho.”

“Exactly. Not worth it, for you or Lisa. Plus - and I'm only saying this because it's true - you're ten years older than Aaron.” 

Theodosia had a retort on the tip of her tongue (older women are sexy! despite the fact that they kicked off the only woman over thirty to appear on the show on the first episode of the last season of  _ The Bachelor  _ \- but at least she appeared!), but swallows it. Maria’s right, like always, the girl is too old for her age. “Fine. If Eliza doesn't feel anything with him, she can send him home.” 

“Now that that's settled.” Maria points her pen back to the screens. They’re both getting tired of watching this kiss. “What are we going to do about Hammy Time?” 

Theo sighs, getting up from her chair to switch the monitors from replaying this scene to general footage of the house. “First of all, we’re going to blur his website. And second, we can just let him coast this week. We’ve got the soccer game and the one-on-one, right? No way he wins the soccer game, look at him. Maybe Eliza will just forget about him.” 

“I don’t know if you forget a dude like that,” Maria laughs. “We just have to bring a different guy into her focus.”

“Got any in mind?”

\- - - - -

“Alright, y’all,” Herc calls, entering the house only to round up the guys for the date. “Group date. The whole lot.” 

He counts them off as they leave the house,  _ nine, ten, eleven, Hammy Time - oh my god.  _ Herc stops Alex, putting his hand on his chest. “What are you wearing?” Hercules is pretty positive the invitation sent to the house said “come dressed to play” or something equally palpable, and yet, here was Alex standing in front of him, in jeans and a dress shirt.  __

“What do you mean?” Alex says quickly, defensively. 

“‘Come dressed to play,’” Herc quotes. “What did you think that meant?”

“If the dress code was that important, you shouldn’t have been so vague,” Alex argues. 

Herc rolls his eyes. This dude may be crazy, but isn’t he supposed to be some smart political theory type? Couldn’t he figure this out? Herc does not have time for this. He does not get paid enough for this. At the very least, it might calm Theodosia and Maria if Alex shows up to the group date looking like an idiot. He’ll make a fool of himself in front of Eliza and get sent home. Maybe cause some drama on his way out. 

“It’s fine,” Herc decides. “You don’t have time to change anyway.” 

Herc ushers Alex out the door and does a quick sweep for any other stragglers to the group date. Not that he’d tell Maria or Theodosia this to either of their faces, but he’s pretty sure this date is going to go horribly, and not in a good way. Sports dates only ever really work on  _ The Bachelor _ when it’s just girls in short shorts and sports bras running around. Male gaze and advertisers and all the things Maria’s abandoned gender studies major frowned upon. Maybe football would have worked, but soccer? Who the hell knows the rules to soccer? Not even professional players! 

He keeps his mouth shut when he sees Maria, talking Eliza through everything. Eliza, being the only girl on the show, apparently has to hold all the sex appeal of twenty-five girls on an entire season on  _ The Bachelor _ . The short shorts, a full - but tight - shirt which he assumes was a compromise over a sports bra, and further decked out with knee high socks. He raises his eyebrows at Maria.  _ This, when there’s a suitor over there in jeans and a button up? _

Maria sees him and waves him off. “Can you go over the rules with your guys? And divide up the teams?”

Herc complies with little extra effort, rounding up the guys once again. It’s the basic rules of soccer, he assures them (even though that’s probably not very helpful or informative). Eliza will switch teams for each half, the person who scores the winning goal gets the one-on-one with Eliza and the winning team is immune from elimination. As soon as Herc says “one-on-one” the guys create a commotion, trying to divide themselves into teams so they can better their chances. It devolves into all of the Chads, and other vaguely attractive, athletic men, standing in a group, the foreigners and statesmen together, and Hammy Time and Burr all by their lonesome. If Herc didn’t know that Theodosia was watching his every move back in the control room / lair, he would a thousand percent let these teams happen. For the most part, he does. Against the teams’ groans, he adds Aaron to Team Chad, unfortunately now the least built member, and Hammy Time to Team Boring, unfortunately (for Herc) now the loudest member.

He points to Team Boring. “Shirts.” Then to Team Chad. “Skins.” 

Team Chad, far too eager, is happy to strip their shirts - even Aaron, who has a more impressive body than Herc would’ve imagined - and all of the straight female staff seems to stop moving at the same time, jaws unhinging. He rolls his eyes. He isn’t this bad on  _ The Bachelor _ seasons, is he?

The cartoonish gawking has a shift of focus when Eliza jogs over to the men, looking cute as all get out in her headband. The focus is definitely on her legs, screaming in those tiny shorts and high-socks, but Herc is not one to not appreciate a headband. 

He leaves the game to Maria and another producer; he doesn’t know a thing about soccer, and some of his guys are safe no matter which team wins. It’s a better use of his time to talk to the cute craft services girl or catch up on his Instagram feed. 

It works, too, until everyone is interrupted by Maria calling for a medic. He looks up to see Alex clutching his nose, Eliza, genuinely concerned, with a hand on his shoulder, and the offending soccer ball at his feet. His Team Boring teammates watch, both glad and confused. 

“What happened?” Herc asks as he jogs up. 

Maria barely acknowledges him, frantically texting someone - probably Theodosia. “Our man Hammy Time tried to block a goal with his face.” 

Alex, with a broken nose, not ears, shoots her a glare. She ignores it, puts away her phone, and turns to face the rest of the suitors standing around. “Okay. If you can count, you’ll know that Shirts won, and─” she takes a moment to check the other producer’s notes, but Team Boring is already cheering and stealing Eliza from Alex to lift her up onto proud shoulders. She lets out a little scream, but still laughs and makes beautiful eye contact with the Frenchman that will absolutely be making it into promos once he’s in the final three. 

The raucousness settles, and Maria finally has the chance to speak: “The winner of the one-on-one is Andre!” In the back of Herc’s mind, he’s thinking about the fact that they’ll have to have the host come out and record those two lines in a completely empty field so Maria isn’t in the show, and he laughs to himself. 

The men clap, noticeably less excited, and Eliza is let down from her throne to give Andre a perfect kiss on the cheek for the cameras. He wraps his arm around her and squeezes her close, like he’s already a serious boyfriend, so comfortable around her. Her cheek scrunches up, pressed to his chest, and bleeds into her smile. It’s kind of adorable. 

Eliza is either a genuinely warm and joyful person or she knows how to create a good public persona. After all, she’s the first bachelorette in years not to be from a previous season, so she doesn’t have the same experience, not counting the fact that she was raised somewhat in the spotlight, with her father’s political career and all. Maybe she’s just a total natural at dating anywhere between two and twenty-five guys - what else would that say about her? Herc wants to believe the first: genuine, warm, joyful. American princess. 

\- - - - -

Historically, Eliza has not been great at dating.

She’s the definition of “it’s not you, it’s me.” She gets disinterested in the guy too quickly or needs too much from him, and it usually ends with her leaving him with a “I need to figure out what I want.” It's a lie. 

She knows what she wants: someone who will love her for the real her and nothing else. A reality show is not the ideal arena to find that man, but this show isn't really about Eliza finding a husband. It’s about pushing her father’s name, whatever agenda or attention crave the guys have. And then, for the very few pure of heart (or naive), marrying Eliza. 

If she can't find her husband here, she’ll at least brush up her dating skills or learn to lower her expectations; it won't get any better than men literally goaded into being romantic on big budget, extensively planned dates. Well. Her date with Andre is supposedly low key, as  _ Bachelorette _ standards go. Maria’s lowdown earlier mentioned a private beach and a picnic. No gallivanting across countries or some form of extreme air or water travel—yet. She's sure it will happen. 

A knock at the door interrupts her thoughts. Must be Maria, coming to collect her for the date. Eliza takes a last look at herself in the mirror. As far as first date looks go, it’s definitely a winner. Probably aided by the fact that she has a team of professional hair and makeup artists to make her look casually flawless. 

Maria bangs on the door one more time, and Eliza opens it. Okay. Not Maria at all. Alexander. She smiles. In part because he  _ does  _ interest her, and in part because she’s doing a poor job containing the laughter from the splint on his nose. 

“How are you feeling?” she asks, reaching her hands up to touch his cheekbones and under his eyes gingerly. “Looks pretty bad.”

“It’s nothing,” he claims quickly. She drops her hands and he catches them with the tips of his fingers. “You look amazing.”

Eliza pulls her hands back from him. She should probably be whacking him with a newspaper, the way he kissed her last week to get his dumbass blog in the shot. “Not for you,” she teases. 

“Come on, doesn’t a soccer ball to the face earn anything?”

“It’s Andre’s date. Maybe next week.”

“We can fit in a quick date before you have to go.”

A moment lingers between them, something tense in the air, and then he’s kissing her again. God, didn’t anyone ever teach him some manners? Ask a girl before you kiss her, especially when there’s cameras roaming around or directly in your fucking face. 

She pulls him into the room for privacy, and he stumbles in with her and kicks the door closed. As soon as his hand reaches up to tangle in her hair, she grabs his arm to stop him. 

“Maria’s going to kill me if my hair and makeup is messed up,” she pants. 

It takes him a second to catch up, that she’s actually stopping him because of her hair and makeup. Being the problem solver that he is, he moves his lips down to her neck, his hands pushing at the hem of her dress. 

Eliza relaxes into his touch, letting her back fall against the wall. This part, she’s more practiced in. He’s magnetic to her, already: she starts pushing into his hips and he takes the hint immediately. Sinking down onto his knees, he kisses the inside of her thigh as his index fingers hook into the top of her underwear, then wait. She’s stuck in desperate anticipation for a moment before she realizes he’s waiting for permission. Great, all these ungranted kisses, but he decides to be polite when he’s on the edge of what she actually wants, needs. She nods and stutters out a mix of  _ yes, okay, don’t stop _ so he’ll take the hint. 

And he does. And his mouth is on her. And it really is exactly what she needed, with the stress and the fact that she wasn’t allowed to date anyone since it was announced that she was on going to be on the show. 

But then Alexander pulls away from her, and Eliza starts to wonder if this guy just enjoys teasing her. When she loses the heat from his body, she flutters her eyes open to see him standing as far away as he could’ve gotten in those few seconds, with Maria and a single camera man at the door, her lips pursed, ready to chew Eliza out, and his jaw dropped, but still intently filming. 

“So,” Maria says, breaking the silence. Alexander and Eliza both snap their heads to look at her. “We’ve got to get you to your date.”

Eliza nods, reaching down and pulling her underwear back up. She’s a teenager again, blushing hot after Angelica forgets to knock and walks in on her first boyfriend on top of her. Except this time there’s a camera and instead of Angelica, it’s a woman who Eliza is pretty sure just lost whatever ounce of respect she could have had for her. 

Maria stops Eliza before she leaves the door, combing through her hair and running her finger along the edge of her lip to fix her smudged lipstick. Maybe Andre won't noticed, maybe he's never seen an almost-just-fucked woman before. The camera follows them down the hall, and she can hear Alexander’s feet echoing, scrambling in the other direction. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cliffhung?   
> also is it me or am i accidentally setting up a herc / eliza ship? i mean, totally not an accident and am totally planning to do something with it... maybe i'm just projecting my love for eliza onto herc.


End file.
